


we belong to you and me

by perfect_little_fool



Category: The West Wing
Genre: (haha see what I did there), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dirty Talk, F/M, Lust at First Touch, Pre-Series, Semi-Public Sex, Touching, bartlet campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_little_fool/pseuds/perfect_little_fool
Summary: And anyway, the soulmate-lust that is spread around in hushed tones and published about in medical journals is all speculation and word of mouth. Regardless of the studies done and countless documents discussing it’s existence, it’s hard to believe such a sensation could exist.The idea of brushing up against some random stranger and an instant connection blossoming, so potent and overwhelming that the need to consummate the newfound relationshipright then and therebeing real? Donna has heard more realistic fairy tales.(or, the au where when you and your soulmate touch for the first time, you have an overwhelming desire to, ahem, jump each other’s bones)
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	we belong to you and me

**Author's Note:**

> title from: “How Deep is Your Love” by PJ Morton feat. Yebba
> 
> I reread **finding love, step one** by the user **lightyears** recently, which is a Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin fanfic, and uses this exact premise. I immediately knew I HAD to apply this trope to Josh and Donna. BECAUSE WHY NOT
> 
> you can find that AMAZING fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482640)!  
> (even if you’re not a The 100 fan, it’s still a good read. give it a shot!!) I drew HEAVY inspo from it with certain terminology and ways of explaining this in-universe phenomena, SO THANK YOU for that. 
> 
> also, do they feel ENTIRELY in character the entire time? maybe not but who cares I had fun with it
> 
> hope I do this prompt justice!! enjoy!

Donna thought Carl was her soulmate. She really did.

Sure, when they first met and she shook his hand at that lecture way back when, there was a warmth. A spark, if you will. Yeah, maybe there hadn’t been a forceful wind or a crashing tidal wave that consumed all of her, demanding she push him against the nearest wall. But there had been _something_. She swears.

And anyway, the soulmate-lust that is spread around in hushed tones and published about in medical journals is all speculation and word of mouth. Regardless of the studies done and countless documents discussing it’s existence, it’s hard to believe such a sensation could exist. The idea of brushing up against some random stranger and an instant connection blossoming, so potent and overwhelming that the need to consummate the newfound relationship _right then and there_ being real? Donna has heard more realistic fairy tales.

Her tie to Carl had been strong, she can at least admit that much, but it had never felt perfect. Not like two puzzle pieces clicking together, which is exactly how she always pictured meeting her soulmate would be like. What she doesn’t want to admit is that this was a driving force behind leaving him. 

Yeah, sure, he kind of walked all over her and she didn’t stand up for herself when she should have all the time. But, really, she knew it wasn’t it. She knew there was something else, _someone_ else out there for her. That was better in every conceivable way. 

Doubt be damned, she can at least hope.

The worst part of all of this—even worse than wasting such a large chunk of time on someone who wasn’t her perfect half—is that she thought maybe she _had_ found her actual soulmate. And yet, all signs are pointing to her being wrong. Again. 

When she first met Josh, it wasn’t his boyish good looks or unbuttoned flannel that fanned the flames. Those didn’t hurt, of course, but more so the risk he took in taking a chance on her. Allowing her to jump in with him, giving her permission to elbow into the front lines of the campaign. As he gazed down at her from his office doorway all the way back in Manchester, eyes sympathetic and mouth soft, she knew. She knew this man had to be something _different_. Something _else_.

He had handed her his _Bartlet for America_ badge, lips turning up into the gentlest smile, and she was gone for him. Could feel the way her pulse skyrocketed as she grabbed the plastic rectangle and gripped it between her perspirant fingers. Then he turned and walked away while her heart remained in her throat.

And yet, it never happened.

Since the whole soulmate-lust thing is really only something you can read about, hear about, or watch about (especially once it became the hottest romantic-comedy plot starting in the 80’s), it’s difficult to know if it’s something you’ve already experienced. Donna still believes it couldn’t have been with Carl—the thrill she felt when first beginning a relationship with him was nothing special. As far as she’s to understand, you’re supposed to just _know_ when you and your soulmate make contact for the first time.

The first time she and Josh touched, even in the most minor way, had been just a few days after she’d pretended to be his new assistant. They were in Charleston, working out of an empty warehouse that’d been cheap to rent for office space. She was sitting atop his makeshift desk that was a metal table found in some back room. One of her feet swang as she talked on the phone.

“Yes, I—all donations should be written directly to—yes, yes of course—” she stopped mid sentence upon seeing Josh strut toward her, his attention on some stack of papers gripped in hand. Her breathing stuttered. “I’ll let Finance know.”

The person on the other end yammered on. Donna flicked her eyes up and down the figure of her new boss, tongue dry.

He had come upon her on his desk as she was replying again to whoever she was on the phone with, his eyes meeting hers briefly before returning downward again. She felt the need to blush but forced some semblance of composure on herself.

As her foot kicked forward again in it’s path it had been idly taking during her task, it brushed against Josh’s thigh. On instinct, his hand shot down and grabbed hold of her ankle, curling around the whole of it, the material of her black dress pant crinkling under his palm. She sucked in a breath before she could stop herself.

“Easy there,” he had said, squeezing once before releasing. Her foot fell back to rest beside her unmoving one. “You just got this job—probably shouldn’t injure your boss in the first week.”

Donna had been so nervous, so jumpy, that she could only dumbly nod in response. He smiled, grabbed a pen from beside her hip on the surface of the desk, then disappeared around a corner.

To say she had been disappointed that no encompassing feeling had doused her when he’d grabbed her ankle would be a massive understatement. She sat with the uncomfortable emotion for days, letting it rip apart her chest, angry that the first man she felt a strong attraction to in years was once again not _it_. 

It was even worse in the next few weeks when it just _kept happening_. Almost like the universe was forcing them into physical interactions, teasing Donna with what she wanted but was never going to get.

Next, it was the brush of his shoulder against hers when moving by one another in a crowd at one of Barlet’s rallies. Then, his hand pushing against the small of her back to get her moving when she had accidentally idled in a corridor for too long. His foot bumping hers under a diner table late one night when a bunch of them needed greasy breakfast food. Her fingers curling around his elbow to tug him backward so he wouldn’t run into a mailbox on a sidewalk. Their knees skimming each other when standing up at the end of a meeting. 

On the days where there was no interaction, no touch, Donna could feel herself going crazy. Like she craved any small moment between them. God, was she insane. 

She’s aware she needs to drop this. Resign herself to the fact that Josh isn’t her soulmate, isn’t the one who will dig into the deepest recesses of her to pull out the feeling she’s desperate for. The feeling of being wanted, of _wanting_. For now, she’ll have to swallow all of it down. 

Easier said than done.

-

Donna isn’t sure who picked the bar for tonight, but she can bet it was CJ. Not too fancy, not divey—the deep red tone of the bar warm and inviting. Enough so that Donna knew without a doubt she was going to get happily drunk tonight before she even stepped foot in it. 

The week was a long one, full of press issues and fluctuation of polls. Barlet is now only slightly ahead of Hoynes in the bigger states. Although this is an improvement and a wonderful achievement in general, Josh has been on edge for days, hungry for better numbers. Donna is ecstatic they’re past the brunt of it.

At the bar, Donna falls into a stool next to Carol, heaving out a short, loud exhale. She slings her purse over the back of her seat. Her friend raises a brow, already nursing what looks to be a whiskey sour, long dark hair gathered on one shoulder out of the way. “That seems to be the general mood tonight,” Carol comments.

“I just need us to win already,” Donna answers. “I think travelling like this is taking a toll on my mental state.”

“You and me both,” Carol laughs. “Drink?”

“Get me an Old Fashioned and I’ll kiss you on the mouth.”

Her companion laughs again, hearty and full, before ordering just that as the bartender comes back their way. Donna slumps against the counter of the bar, noting CJ and and Toby on the other end, sharing a round of shots. Her eyes flicker across the room for other familiar faces, seeing Sam leaning against one wall using a payphone, head ducked low. Margaret is nearby, chatting with a couple of interns in a booth, all of them roaring with laughter at something being said.

Before she can take stock of who else is here, her drink is being set in front of her. She groans softly in appreciation before indulging in a big sip.

Carol hums. “Do you think we’ll win?”

“Please don’t put that question on me. If we don’t I have no idea what I’m gonna do.”

“You’ll do fine,” her friend assures. “This campaign isn’t the only avenue for you. Hell, I’ll be out of a job just as much as you. We’ll find something together.”

“Maybe we can go be hostess’ at some restaurant,” Donna jokes, stirring her drink with that tiny straw they give. “We’d get free food out of it probably. Better than the crappy gas station stuff we’ve been eating for the past two months.” 

“I demand an Italian place. My own stipulation.”

“You got it, chica.”

Carol is saying something else, she’s sure, but it buzzes out of existence as she connects eyes with Josh across the way. He’s coming out of the bathroom, stopping next to Sam who is now off the phone and looks like was waiting for him. Her boss’ gaze simmers at her, his mouth curling at one side in acknowledgement, before turning away to react to what Sam is saying.

Donna has to regain feeling in her hands once their eye contact is broken, clearing her throat. Luckily, her friend didn’t notice much and is now wondering aloud if she’ll remain CJ’s assistant or if she’ll move elsewhere.

It’s minutes later that she feels a presence come to the other side of her, the heat of someone’s body warming her back. She turns, seeing Josh leaning against the counter of the bar, elbows pressing to the surface. Her heart does that weird thing it does whenever they’re near each other, constricting and contracting as if it’s ready to drop at any second. 

“You finally made it,” he says, signalling to the bartender with a cock of his head. “Where were you?”

Donna taps her nails against the side of her glass, uneasy. “I was finishing up a phone call at the office. Meant to be here sooner but lost track of time.”

Josh nods. “Did you finally call your mom back, then?”

She laughs, a little awestruck that he remembers her comment from a couple days ago about needing to check in with her parents so they know she isn’t dead. “Actually no, I still need to do that. Thank you for reminding me.” 

“Who were you talking to then? Please tell me it wasn’t Bobby from Hoyne’s office, I told him to stop calling—”

“No, no, he finally gave up last week. I got a call from Carl.”

Josh’s eyebrows crease, his mouth sinking a bit as well. “Carl?”

Donna’s lips crinkle like she ate something sour. Damn, she didn’t mean to blurt that. It’s not like she _meant_ to still be talking to her ex-boyfriend—he called and she answered, they got to talking, it just sort of happened. Plus, it was nice to hear an apology and a shred of affection. 

“Yeah—”

“Wait, as in Dr. Freeride?”

“Yes, Josh—”

“You’re still talking to him?” Donna isn’t sure how to interpret his tone, dipping low and a bit taken aback. He’s also not making direct eye contact with her, instead finding kinship in watching the bartender make his gin and tonic. Her throat feels thick now. One hand curls around the fabric of her skirt, needing to grip something.

“Not, you know, _talking_ talking,” she clarifies, unsure how to navigate this topic with him. Their discussion of Carl has been limited since Josh first gave him that ridiculous nickname and guessed how he treated her. Since then, it’s been mostly one-off questions about how long they were together, how tall he was, etc. Never any long, lingering talks about their connection. “He called, I answered, we chatted for a second. End of story.”

Josh grabs his finished drink and takes a deep gulp, cleaning out half of it in one go. “I just, uh, didn’t think you’d wanna talk to him again.” He keeps his eyes trained on the napkin under his perspiring glass.

Donna can’t feel her tongue. Somehow, she senses herself shrug casually. “I wasn’t looking to do so. It just sort of happened.”

She watches as he clenches his jaw, holding it for a brief second, before releasing it. For not the first time, she wants to run a finger down the cut of it, grip his face and bring it to hers. At the image she has to look away, her top teeth making a dent in her bottom lip.

There’s a bit of harsh silence between the two as they each take turns sipping at their drinks, the bar still somewhat loud around them. She wishes she could understand his sudden stiffness, can see how his shoulders still concealed by his thick sweater are bunched near his ears. It’s also suddenly very hot in the bar and her thighs part on instinct, feeling like everything’s closing in on her.

Because of this, her bare knee bumps against his jean-clad leg on accident and she blushes, snatching it back quickly to tuck under her space of the bar. “Sorry,” she murmurs, clearing her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Josh looking at her, eyes tense. She turns to meet it, lips parting as she watches his tongue dart out to wet his own.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom,” Donna blurts, nervous all of a sudden, the pulse at her neck beating an untimely rhythm. “I’ll be right back.” She stumbles off the stool away from Josh, her hand slipping trying to grab the purse attached to it.

“Here—” Josh starts, reaching forward to help grab the strap, hand closing over hers. 

The feeling that rockets through her in an instant can only be described as pure heat. Her vision goes hazy at the edges, warmth blooming across her face. She can feel sweat spark at the back of her neck, her breath suddenly deepening into pants. Josh’s fingers tighten over hers. The move plucks a thread hotwired to between her legs and she can feel herself get wet in less than a second. Her thighs squeeze together.

Even in her sudden daze, she can see his gaze flick to below her waist at that, before slowly moving back up to her face. His eyes are now blown black, hot and dilated, and he feels so much closer, swarming every part of her vision as if he’s the only thing she can see. He’s clenching his jaw again and it’s so, so good.

A small whimper passes her mouth. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Josh mutters, voice low and scratchy. In tandem, they both realize what this is. 

They’re soulmates. And it’s happening. A dark look passes over his face and she’s overly aware of where this is going, could go, and shouldn’t go. Her heart hammers in her throat.

Clearly, he has more self-control than she could possibly imagine to have at this moment. She’s three seconds from pushing him flush against the ground and unbuckling his belt when he huddles her close, warm hand pressed to right above her tailbone. A gasp pushes out of her. With his mouth at her ear, he murmurs “bathroom” bright and promising, before forcing himself away. The moment they’re no longer making contact, no more skin against skin, her fingers begin to itch. She wants to lunge for him, bring him back into her atmosphere, but realizes he’s giving her a chance for them to step away from prying eyes.

Quickly, she turns on her heel to start stumbling toward the aforementioned bathroom, her legs feeling like jello. She manages a look around at their peers, seeing that although some of them are giving her odd or concerned looks, none seem to fully understand what is happening. Unless, they are, and have the decency to give the newly created couple as much privacy and space as possible.

She doesn’t recall opening the door and falling inside, finding a grip against the wall to steady herself. Donna presses her forehead against the plaster, reeling in the comfort from the cool feel of it, her purse sliding out of her grip and dropping to the ground. It’s so hot, so warm, that she already starts to slide off the cardigan she’s wearing as a top layer. She’s never been this turned on in her whole life.

It’s only a matter of seconds later that Josh lets himself inside the single stall room as well, closing and locking the door behind him. How he has any sense of composure, any semblance of thought right now, baffles her as she feels about ready to claw her own skin off.

His hands close over the curve of her waist, spinning her around to face him and claiming her mouth with his in one fell swoop. The moan she releases is loud and wanton, uncontrollable at best. He uses it as an invitation to open her wider, sliding his tongue against hers while grabbing her under one knee and hitching her leg over his hip.

Feeling his hot, scalding hand against the bare skin of her thigh while also accepting his hard dick through his jeans against her front—it’s like sensory overload. She’s drunk on him, can feel herself sinking into every part of him. He grunts into her mouth, licking at the seam of her lips before pulling off to trail down her neck. Donna’s head throws back to give him access, her hand clutching at his lean shoulders while she tries to catch up with everything that’s happened in the past couple minutes.

“I knew it was you,” Josh is growling, her eyelids fluttering at how low his voice is. “But every time—whenever I touched you—” His hands eagerly slide up her ribcage, bunching her blouse under her breasts. 

“I know,” she gasps out. “I thought—”

“Me too,” he groans, fingernails prickling the skin above her hip bones. Somehow, she’s got her own digits buried in his dark hair and is tugging. He pulls away to meet her eyes, face flush and lips red. “I thought I was going to have to watch you meet someone else, and—” 

She silences him with another kiss, not wanting to even think of such a thing. Knowing that she was right has a tornado of emotion roaring through her chest. She could cry, almost wants to, but would rather Josh fuck it out of her instead. He eagerly meets her in the middle, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her blouse to open it in the middle, the rest of it hanging at her sides.

He gets one arm hooked around her waist to boost her up, moving them away from the wall by the door and over to the sink, her ass hitting the edge of it. She grinds down against his cock straining against his zipper, moaning knowing it’s going to be inside her soon. So soon, so soon, she almost feels incomplete without it.

A chuckle vibrates against her mouth, his forehead falling against hers as he pulls from their bruising kisses again. “Let’s see how ready you are for me, huh?” he murmurs hotly, the casual filthiness of the inquiry hitting her where it matters most. She’s almost embarrassed, afraid to let him see the mess she’s made, but also can’t spread her legs fast enough as he pushes the skirt up to gather around her hips.

He makes quick work of peeling her panties from her, letting them drop to the ground. She’s glad he doesn’t comment on how utterly soaked they are.

The first touch of his fingers to her pussy has her head falling back, hitting the mirror behind her. A guttural sound pushes out the back of her throat, her stomach tightening as she feels shoved toward the edge. The pads of his fingertips move through her slick easily, skating along her lips and exploring eagerly. She rocks her hips toward him.

“God, Donna, look how wet you are,” Josh admires, nose bumping against her chin from where she’s still thrown back in pleasure. “So pretty and pink—you’re perfect.”

The whine she releases is more than unintentional, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“I had half a mind to take you right there at the bar—” he tells her while finally pressing hard against her clit, her jaw dropping as he sets a rhythm. “It took everything in me to get you to myself.”

Donna reaches forward blindly to find his neck, grabbing hold when she does and running her thumb along the hook of his jaw. Her heart is pounding so loud in her ears. “Josh, please—”

“Would you have liked that, Donna?” he growls again, the shiver that runs down her spine making her pussy flutter. “To have bent you over that bar and fucked you for everyone to see? To let them know exactly who it is you belong to?”

She cries out before she can stop it, so close to coming, but needing just one more thing. “Josh, please, _please_ —”

“What, sweetheart? How can I take care of you?”

The soft paired with the rough sends her reeling, she almost isn’t sure she can form words. His apparent self-control is still so surprising—in her time working with Joshua Lyman the last thing he’s exhibited has been an ability to control himself. The spaziness, the flailing arms, the booming voice; how he can be so succinct and constricted here with her now is impossible. It has to be.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” she bursts, squeezing beside his pulse point.

“All you had to do was ask,” he smirks, bending forward to lick his way into her mouth yet again.

His cockiness gives her a surge of strength, unexpected but delicious to throw back. “And all you had to do was touch me,” she challenges, breathless. “Yet you couldn’t even do that right.”

Josh’s eyes go dark and wicked at that, jaw clenching under her fingers there. Before she can take another breath, he’s pulling her off the edge of the sink and spinning her away from him. Her hands have to grab hold of the porcelain she was just seated against to catch herself from tumbling over. 

“You always have something to say,” he bites out, hands bruising into her hips tugging backward so she bends over more effectively for him against the sink. “Always have to fight me. _God_ , Donna—”

“Josh, I swear, shut up for once—”

“Knew I should have just claimed you when you first invaded my office—”

The clink of his belt coming undone causes her next words to die on her tongue, the anticipation of him _finally_ being inside of her lighting an electric current from her head to her toes. Her legs widen on instinct, her pussy spreading open for him. He groans at the sight, her small vantage points allowing her to see him fisting his cock. Her mouth waters at the size and weight of it. 

His other hand does one more swipe through her drenched cunt, pressing idly against her clit for a brief second before he steps forward, allowing the head of his dick to slip into her entrance. 

A dirty moan falls out of her as he starts to push in, her walls clutching him. She notices his hips begin to rotate against her, fucking her more open for him, helping her expand and relax. She’s whimpering, soft yet loud, feeling like all ability to speak has left her for now. One of his hands finds her front and grasps her still-clothed breast. 

“Oh, no, no,” he gently chides, almost to himself, before grabbing the band of her bra and yanking down, helping the cups fold down to expose her nipples. As he plucks one between two fingers, he manages to seat entirely inside her, fusing his hips to hers. She gasps.

In all honesty, she had kind of hit the nail on the head. It really is like two puzzle pieces clicking together. 

As her eyes open and close, the world is blurry but it feels so much brighter, richer, thicker. Her heart is watery and in her ears, but she can hear each breath Josh gives, can taste their sex in the air, can feel the slick they share as he starts a brutal pace in and out of her. Her fingers tighten around the cold surface of the sink under her weight, needing to feel grounded as he propels her higher and higher.

“Donna,” he grunts.

“Hmm?”

He’s grasping part of her hair suddenly, tugging to bring her head up. “Look at me,” he demands, desperate, winding the blonde strands around his palm to keep hold, helping her make eye contact with herself in the mirror in front of them.

She moans at what she sees, pressing back against Josh that much harder: her skirt tucked up to her hips, naked from there down, his cock buried inside her, fucking her sharp and clear. Her blouse open and free on her shoulders, bra pulled down to display her breasts, pink nipples hard and peaked. Her neck long and pulled back, a red mark already making itself known below one ear. Her soulmate poised behind her, giving her exactly what she’s been craving for almost two months, eyes wild and hair mussed. The sweat along his hairline glistens against his flushed skin, chords in his neck straining.

As their eyes meet, it crashes through her all over again. What Donna feels is reflected in his own gaze, the knot that was once loose pulled taut, newly binding them together. More than a puzzle piece, more than striking gold. Every part of her feels connected to him, their souls bared and combined.

Every touch, every sensation she’s had before this suddenly doesn’t compare. She can’t even recall what being fucked was like before him. What comes next can only be the beginning. 

It’s everything and too much. She can hardly breathe.

“Are you gonna come for me?” Josh is asking, hand not in her hair now finding her clit, giving her delightful friction. She cries out again. “Come for me, Donna. I wanna see what only I can make you do.”

Her body obeys almost instantly, an orgasm setting off at her womb and sparking upward. She feels it at the tip of her nipples, in the pulse at her neck. She sobs out a small wail, body tensing as he grinds his cock into her, helping her feel all of it. It’s unknown to her that she’d have almost collapsed if not for Josh getting an arm around her waist, keeping her in place as he continues to fuck her.

“There you go,” he’s murmuring as she floats back down. “You’re so beautiful. Taking me so well, letting me give you exactly what you need.”

He’s moving them again, she realizes moments later, pushing her up against the wall once more and getting her legs fully wrapped around him. Their lips are pressing hot and good, and she finds the ability to sneak her arms around his neck this time. He smiles against her mouth, both hands on her hips to thrust up into her. She gets her fingers back in his hair, tugging and pulling to tell him she wants more.

“Yeah?” he grins, his sweaty cheek dragging against hers. “Can’t get enough?”

Donna attempts to meet his drive, rocking her hips down as he goes up. “You’re not naked,” she points out. “Definitely not enough.”

He gives out a laugh as best as he can. His thrusts are sloppy now, and she wonders if he’s nearing the end. “Neither are you,” he retorts. “I never want you dressed again.”

She matches him with her own laugh, smiling wide as it seems to kick him further into gear, his movement into her growing harder. “We’ll see about that.”

They’re kissing again as he pins her more into the wall, the head of his dick hitting the end of her channel with each pull, her chest heaving. His breath stutters. “Touch your clit,” he halfway commands. “I want you to come with me.”

Despite her natural instincts, she listens and gets a hand between their heated bodies, pushing past the scrunched fabric of her skirt to find her clit. They both groan as she starts rubbing herself there, her pussy clenching on him that much more. She lets her lips fall to the skin below his jaw, licking at the saltiness of his sweat. 

“Donna—” he stammers, pace quickening. “Fuck—”

“Come in me, Josh,” she breathes toward his ear. 

His final shove into her has him spurting against her walls, the feel of him filling her up forcing her into a second orgasm as well. Almost like him reaching his peak was the trigger she needed to have another—this whole soulmate thing will need some getting used to.

They’re both panting for air when they return to themselves, the lust wearing off at least for now. Josh bends forward to close his mouth around one of her still-exposed nipples, a small laugh bursting past her lips. “Now look who’s the one who can’t get enough?” she teases.

He pops off, giving her the classic Josh-smirk she’s gotten used to. “I didn’t pay much attention to them. I wanted to apologize.”

After he helps her feet find the floor again they take a few moments to clean themselves up. Josh finds her panties discarded on the ground and unceremoniously tucks them into his pocket, ignoring her noise of indignation at the move. 

Once they're both composed and dressed does he pull her back into his atmosphere, kissing her again because he can. She goes warm, her fingertips tingling. The feeling that’s blossoming in her chest can’t be described.

He pulls back, eyes alight. “So. Soulmates.”

Donna raises a brow. “You just figured that out?”

“No, you—” he pinches her side and she starts, giggling. He grins. “I just can’t believe it. I’m always one to trust my instincts, and yet—”

“I thought the same thing,” she agrees, softer. She blushes. “I was so convinced after we first met, but then you grabbed my ankle, and—”

“Who would’ve thought it would need to be bare skin?” Josh exclaims, a tad louder than they’ve been the past fifteen minutes. “I mean, come on, the technicality of it—”

“You don’t have to be right about everything, you know,” she points out, teasing again.

“I think you’ll come to find that, yes, I do.”

As they head toward the door of the bathroom to return into the bar, neither sure internally how to explain their sudden disappearance at the same time, Donna reaches down instinctually to twine her fingers with him. He gulps, heart jumping above his sternum. “And I think you’ll come to find that I will tell you when you’re wrong, at all times.”

He smirks, still feeling a bit wicked, and finds her ear as she pushes open the door to leave. “One thing I know I’m not wrong about is that I’m dripping out of you right this very second.”

She gasps, face blazing. “Josh—”

He nudges her forward into the bar. “I’ll pay for our drinks if you wanna head out.”

Donna is quick to nod, swinging her purse tighter over her shoulder. Before she can take another step, he pulls her back in with a hand curled around her elbow. Her soulmate’s touch echoes between her legs. 

“I better find you in my room without a single piece of clothing on. I wasn’t bluffing when I said I never want you dressed again.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you want more Josh and Donna, check out my three-part series (with more to come) involving them [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833961)!


End file.
